June 1, 2016.
      I became an Auntie again. The third time (on my side of the family, anyway). The first girl.
      Elliana Nichole.

      She’s incredible. I can’t wait to meet her.
      But that isn’t why my blog was late.
      My blog was late because I had a slight breakdown. I was at once so happy, so thrilled for my sister and her family (for Malakai who finally gets to meet ‘his girl’, for Mike who will always have Daddy’s Girl, for Micah who gets to be big brother after all), but so miserable for myself that I could not bring myself to write about it.
      I couldn’t even let Mark comfort me in my sobbing idiocy because I just felt awful for having these same feelings burbling up over and over.

      You see, I’m 36 now. Officially on the back-half of my 30s. Almost too old to get pregnant. My husband is 47. We’re not a young couple anymore.

      The chances of us ever having a child dwindle daily. It does not help that our Ohio nephews are almost all grown and that the little niblings are all in Las Vegas where I am not even close enough to be the kind of Auntie Josie I want to be… in lieu of being a mom.

      This year has been more full of baby news than most – or at least, it has affected me more than in the past. I am so happy for my childhood bestie, Keri, who finally had a baby a few weeks ago. For a friend from work whose wife gave him a son early in May, for cousins, for acquaintances, for strangers and celebrities and for everyone else who is having the children they want so much.

      But I keep deciding I’m content with not having family of my own.
      I keep vowing to stop doing this to myself every time an old friend (M’Lynders… <3) has a baby.

      I keep swearing that I am grateful for the life I have, the family I’ve married into and the one I’m born into, for my friends and my dog and if a baby isn’t in my future, then I know God chose this path for a reason and I will be okay with that – I will trust Him.

      But then it happens again – a baby is born and my heart breaks and I weep and I hate myself for feeling that way.

      ARGH – enough self-pity.

      Today I want to celebrate this little angel, Elliana Nichole.

      What do I want her to know?

      I want her to know that she is smart, and funny, and brave, and talented, and a million things OTHER than pretty. But also that she is pretty – beautiful even. And whether or not she has ‘good’ hair, or has this complexion over that, whether her nose is broad as her daddy or narrow as her mommy, whether she is short or tall, whether she is artsy or sporty or science-y, nerdy or trendy or a thousand other things – that she is a incredible, magical wonderful gift to this world and that she is loved.

      So loved. So wanted. So worthwhile.

      And enough. I want her to always know that whatever she is, she is enough.

      If she loves boys, girls, both, neither. If she realizes she’s not really a she or if she is the girliest girl that ever girled.

      Whoever, whatever. Where ever she goes.

      Auntie Josie loves her.

Note: Image is “elliana nichole” by (me) in MS Paint, wah waaaah